


For What It's Worth

by Sharl



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Gen, M/M, Superfamily (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-04 09:39:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12166341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharl/pseuds/Sharl
Summary: Peter Parker has lost everyone he loves. All alone now, Peter doesn't expect much from life.The universe seems to think otherwise.This is a story following Peter Parker's journey (later Peter Stark, legally adopted son of Tony Stark and Steve Rogers) and his life as an heir of Stark Industries. Throws in a Wade Wilson somewhere in there, and somehow Peter's life takes a rather interesting turn.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or actors from The Avengers. Everything belongs to the great and powerful Marvel, Disney, Stan Lee, etc.
> 
> Also this is un-beta'ed so let me know of any mistakes!
> 
> Alternate Universe - no powers but really smart Peter.

Peter scowls at the list of questions in front of him.

 

 _This is stupid_ , his six-year-old brain thinks.

 

Slightly upset, he throws the pencil away, feeling oddly dissatisfied at the sound it makes bouncing off the wall instead of trash can as he intended.

 

Throwing things away has never been his forte. Peter vaguely remembers how his mother always got annoyed when he threw his schoolbag on the sofa and the contents spilled out everywhere. She would yell at him, irritated but a look of fondness was always there.

 

Too bad she’s dead now. Along with his father. And Aunt May and Uncle Ben.

 

Peter’s heart clenches. Remembering them always makes him want to _cry,_ and he doesn’t want to cry; not anymore, not here, not now, not _again_. He has done it too many times. Remember means wishing for something you can’t have. And Peter is smart enough to know no matter what he does, his family won’t be coming back. They are all dead, killed in a stupid car crash on their way to Peter’s stupid science exhibition at his stupid school.

 

But now his treacherous brain wanders. Peter sniffles as memories of how proud his parents had been flooded his mind. How fond Aunt May’s smiles were when Peter explained enthusiastically to Uncle Ben that this flashlight he made only require human heat to creates light, no need for batteries or moving parts.

 

If it was not for his stupid flashlight, he wouldn’t be selected for the exhibition and maybe his family would still be alive.

 

Peter coughs, willing his brain not to think about that again and his gaze falls into a corner table.

 

He knows they place it here on purpose, to ignite his creativity again, but Peter only gets angry seeing it.

 

He marches across the room, grips the flashlight tight and _hurls_ it across the room. It collides with the wall and makes crashing sound, the small conductor inside falls out, parts break into even smaller pieces.

 

Now Peter feels slightly better.

 

“Mr. Parker, that won’t do.”

 

Peter stares defiantly at the speaker: a blonde haired young lady with a stern look closely watches him. His good mood evaporates in an instant.

 

She has a tablet on one hand, stylus on the other and Peter knows she keeps his score there.

 

They say today is a very important day for him. He has to impress the blond lady – the examiner, so that she will recommend his name to whoever looking to adopt smart kid. If he is successful, Peter might find himself with a new set of parents by the end of the day.

 

But Peter doesn’t want a new set of parents. He wants his own parents _back_.

 

“Mr. Parker,” the lady speaks again, a little harsher this time. “You will finish your test and you will recreate your flashlight. If you don’t, we cannot recommend you to anyone today.”

 

Peter rolls his eyes and shrugs. He doesn’t care about all that.

 

Besides the test is _literally_ stupid. He has created a flashlight utilizing thermoelectric effect, a direct conversion of temperature differences to electric voltage and doesn’t it supposed to show his profound knowledge regarding electricity and magnetism? And now they expect him to do a pre-calculus test?

 

Like he says, stupid.

 

The blonde lady sighs. “Very well. If we cannot make any recommendation for you, herewith I finish your session. You can go, Mr. Parker. Somebody will come to pick you up.”

 

With that the lady turns around and walks out the door, leaving him alone in the room.

 

 _She doesn’t even offer me drinks_ , Peter thinks, _what a rude lady._

Peter glances around. Well then. If the session finishes, he can do whatever he wants. And doesn’t that lady said that he can go? With no adult supervising him, technically he can go anywhere. Maybe going to the library is a good idea, he can read and no one will bother him. There’s a nice old librarian lady and she often gives Peter some snacks.

 

With the library in mind, he shoulders his bag, not bothering to close the zipper, and walks out. He doesn’t want to wait for somebody to ‘pick him up.’ He wants to go on his own.

 

There were few adults conversing in the hallway, but no one stops him. Some give Peter interested looks, but mostly they ignore him. Which is a good thing. He can slip away quietly.

 

Or so he thinks.

 

The universe seems to think differently. Peter knows that the two man standing at the door at the end of the hallway are guards. They make sure no one comes in without permission and no one (especially not children) walks out unsupervised.

 

He has to find another way out.

 

Looking around, Peter spots an opened window. Small but enough for a six year-old to climb and escape. He drags a chair (surprisingly no one even looks at him), climbs it and heaves his body up. This is a first floor so he don’t have to worry for injuries whatsoever.

 

What he doesn’t expect is somebody crouching down directly below the window.

 

“Hey kid.”

 

Peter looks down, body halfway outside and his legs still dangling in the air. There is a big blonde guy wearing jeans, leather jacket and plated shirt looks back at him. He seems mildly amused, probably found the situation all too funny, which Peter completely understands. He would’ve laughed as well if his legs aren’t flailing right now.

 

“Hey you! Get down from there!” Somebody shouts, probably one of the guards, and Peter’s hold on the windowsill slips.

 

The next few seconds seems like a nightmare. Peter’s heart feels like dropping, his body literally drops and he can see the ground getting closer and closer. Before he knows it, a pair of strong hands wraps around his middle and grabs him. He would’ve face planted on the ground already but instead he looks up at a pair of blue eyes.

 

“You okay?” the big guy asks.

 

Peter nods, wiggles around trying to get away and the guy lets go. He gives Peter a quick scan, seems satisfied that he cannot find any injuries and grins. “There’s a perfectly good door over there, why go through a window? You’re not running away, are you?”

 

 _Yes, in fact, I am,_ Peter thinks.

 

He doesn’t answer though, instead he looks around. Notes, papers, pencils scatter all over the ground. Peter huffs. Curse him for not zipping up his bag. Crouching, Peter begins to gather them. Great, now he will spend the rest of the day sorting and cataloguing everything.

 

Probably wanting to help, the big guy grabs a note book, the one filled with Peter’s project ideas. Something must’ve grabs his attention because he begins to flip through it.

 

“Give it back, that’s mine,” Peter says.

 

The guy obviously pretends not to hear. He keeps flipping pages through pages, eyes scanning on Peter’s handwriting, furrowing when there are few words he cannot read.

 

Peter flushes. He knows his writing is bad, but it can’t be _that_ bad, can it? He is about to say something again, the notebook is his damn it, but suddenly there is a commotion.

 

“Mr. Rogers, we are so sorry,” says a bald man running towards them. Peter doesn’t recognize him, but he looks important and rich, the opposite of the big guy with leather jacket. And yet, he’s the one apologizing. “Forgive us, Mr. Rogers, the boy escapes and we have no idea the window is opened and-“

 

“You like physics, son?” the blue-eyed man asks, looking at Peter, effectively cutting any apology whatsoever from the other adult.

 

Peter regards the two men in front of him. Obviously the big guy is someone important. Is he one of the prospective parents? But what is he doing sitting down below the window? Aren’t they supposed to be inside, checking and _selecting_ children based on recommendations?

 

“Yeah I like physics,” Peter finally answers.

 

“Chemistry?”

 

“ _Inorganic_ -chemistry,” corrects Peter. He doesn’t like dealing with living organism, thank you very much.

 

The big guy grins wider. “I’m Steve,” he says, holding his hand out.

 

“Peter.” His mother might be dead, but she has spent enough time teaching him good manners when someone asks for a handshake.

 

“Mr. Rogers, we need to take the boy back inside.” The bald man fidgets nervously, as if he doesn’t Peter to spend more time with Steve.

 

“Yes I agree. Come on Peter, there’s somebody I want you to meet.” Steve keeps his arm around Peter’s shoulder and despite the bald man’s protests, his grip only tightens.

 

Peter doesn’t want to go back inside, but Steve still has his notebook and Peter wants his notebook back. So he shuffles obligingly with Steve. His library trip can get an hour or two delay. Besides, who in the right mind will adopt Peter? The blonde lady has said that he won’t be recommended to anybody. It’s very unlikely Steve will want him after hearing the lady’s reports.

 

“Mr. Rogers, I’m afraid I must insist-“

 

“Where’s Tony?” Peter is surprised to hear the no-nonsense tone from Steve.

 

The bald man stops fidgeting, seemingly giving up now that he realizes Steve will not let Peter go. “Mr. Stark is in the outer office.” Steve ushers Peter inside, keeping a firm grip which Peter thinks a bit silly. It’s not like Peter can run away, not with the bald man following them all the way inside.

 

They walk through hallways and more hallways. Steve seems to know where they are going, mostly confident in his steps except when they arrive at the third intersection. He pauses a little, tilts his head like he’s trying to remember and decides turning left.

 

Curiosity kills the cat, they say, but Peter is an inquisitive child. “How do you know where to go?”

 

Steve shrugs. “I got the blueprint memorized. It’s my job to know everything where Tony goes.”

 

“Who’s Tony?” Peter asks as Steve opens a door.

 

Inside there are three men Peter don’t recognize, and the blond-haired lady, the examiner. One guy wearing an eyepatch is sitting behind big mahogany desk. Another guy stands behind him in full attention, tablet in hand; it’s obvious that he’s the eyepatch’s assistant. The lady sat in front of them. Her own tablet opened and looks like she’s speaking when Steve comes in.

 

The last man catches Peter’s attention. He’s slouching by the window, sitting with his feet on the coffee table, hands in his pocket, looking uninterested at whatever the lady says. Despite the calm posture, his eyes say otherwise. There is a tight worry in his eyes.

 

But when he looks up and sees Steve, his posture changes slightly. The eyes begin to relax and soften, the mouth quirks upward as he says, “I’m Tony. Who’s asking?”

 

“Peter, I want you to meet my partner. This is Tony Stark,” Steve says, “Tony, this is Peter. He’s a smart kid.”

 

“How smart?”

 

“See for yourself.” Steve walks towards Tony, nodding as a greeting to the others in the room, and hands Peter’s notebook.

 

Tony makes a non-committal sound and begins to flip through the pages.

 

Peter scowls. What is it with his notebook that everyone wants to see? It’s only few science projects, nothing interesting. At least, none of the orphans at the orphanage seems interested in it. And now suddenly both Tony and Steve acts like it’s worth something.

 

The door closes quietly behind, but Peter doesn’t turn around to see who closes it. Most probably the bald man.

 

“Mr. Rogers, we have selected several children, all are suitable for Stark Industries,” says the eyepatch guy.

 

Steve shrugs. “Peter is an interesting kid. I like him.”

 

The eyepatch guy sighs. “Mr. Rogers, Stark Industries needs a future leader. Someone who can lead the global challenge of clean, renewable self-sustaining energy source while maintaining profitability at the same time. Surely it is more important than how you feel-“

 

“Now that’s where you’re wrong, Nick,” Tony says, not even looking up from Peter’s notebook. “Steve is my chosen partner, and he’s the reason why we are going through all this adoption process. How he feels weighs heavily in my decision. Is this zinc-air battery?”

 

It takes a moment for Peter to realize that Tony is speaking at _him_. “It will be, once I have the component to make it.”

 

“Explain it to me.” Tony now looks at him critically, a calculating interested look in his eyes.

 

Peter feels slightly overwhelmed by how quickly the topic changes, but he looks at Steve and the big guy nods encouragingly.

 

“They are zinc-air fuel cells, metal-air batteries powered by oxidizing zinc with oxygen from air. They have high energy densities and relatively inexpensive to produce. During discharge, a mass of zinc particles forms a porous anode, which is saturated with an electrolyte. Oxygen from the air reacts at the cathode and forms hydroxyl ions which migrate into the zinc paste and form zincate, releasing electrons to travel to the cathode. The zincate decays into zinc oxide and water returns to the electrolyte. The water and hydroxyl from the anode are recycled at the cathode, so the water is not consumed. This reaction produces a theoretical 1.65 volts.”

 

“How long is the storage life?”

 

“If sealed to keep the air out, small cells can be stored up to 3 years at room temperature with little capacity loss if their seal is not removed.”

 

Tony glances at Steve, who looks as if he’s fighting a smile. “Nice work, Steve.”

 

The blond-haired lady stands. “Mr. Stark, we have known beforehand of Mr. Parker’s scientific achievement and qualities. However, we do not recommend this boy to you. He has displayed compulsive behavior with anger management issue. He doesn’t listen to instructions well, he is profoundly selfish and ignorant.”

 

Peter feels his face heats up in embarrassment. This lady speaks as if Peter is not in the room, as if Peter can’t _hear_ her.

 

Tony laughs. “Isn’t that where every heir of Stark Industries always starts?”

 

“Mr. Stark, there are other candidates, more appropriate nominees.”

 

“Sharon, stop. I want him. Pepper will be in touch with you shortly.” Tony stands and stretches. He walks by Peter, ruffling his hair and messing it. “Peter Parker, is it? Nice to meet you, kid.”

 

And so it begins: By the end of that day, Peter Parker has become Peter Stark, the legally adopted son of Tony Stark and Steve Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And BAM! I have officially joined the Marvel Universe. Completely blame Tom Holland for this.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Peter learns quickly that being an heir to Stark Industries is no walk-in-the-park kind of life.

 

If his parents have been proud when he invented the flashlight, they will be doing hula dance when they see what Peter can do now.

 

It’s been six years since Peter got a Stark as his last name. Six years since he finally built a zinc-air battery, thanks to Tony’s – _Dad’s_ – awesome lab and his unlimited supply of spare parts and chemicals. Now zinc-air batteries are known as Stark batteries, patented on Peter’s name and the trigger of him being talked in hush voices amongst Stark Industries’ Board of Directors.

 

At twelve years-old, Peter has patented no less than seven of his science projects. _It will give him good credibility. People loves this sort of thing,_ Tony has said, and Peter can see now that his Dad is right.

 

His picture graces headline of both _The New York Times_ and _Wall Street Journal_ this morning. The media has gotten a whiff of Peter’s newest patent: a small rechargeable generator that leverages power of perpetual motion, able to convert sunlight into high density energy with very minimum, almost no cost. Wall Street financial analyst has predicted that US military will be absolutely _thrilled_ to have this at their disposal.

 

Stark Industries’ share price has gained another 12-point bumps at the opening bell today. The proud smile Tony give him at breakfast keeps Peter warm for the rest of the day.

 

Peter takes out his Starkpad, completely ignoring his algebra teacher who currently explains antiderivative integral because Peter has learnt that when he was _seven_ , for God’s sake. The only reason why Peter is still a student at this point is because the BOD wants him to.

 

It doesn’t matter that MIT has reserved him a seat to start his classes next year, it just won’t do if an heir of Stark Industries doesn’t graduate high school.

 

Total bullshit, in Peter’s opinion, and he knows even Steve secretly agrees.

 

But, just like Tony said to him at breakfast this morning: fools have no interest in understanding, they only want to air their own opinions.

 

So Peter obligingly goes to high school. He stands out like a sore nail there; not only because he’s much younger compared to the other students, but also because everybody already knows that Peter only goes to school out of _courtesy_. Even his teachers don’t mind when Peter sits at the back corner and does his own thing (as long as he stays quiet, that is).

 

Starkpad in hand, Peter opens his mailbox. There is a new email from Stark Industries’ finance department, containing the final report of their third-quarter result. As part of Peter’s training, Tony has started to put him in Stark Industries official email loop since two years ago. That includes monthly, quarterly and annual review that needs to be pre-approved before being published to shareholders and Wall Street executive.

 

Peter knows Tony will want to discuss this during their study session later that night, and now is a good time to start preparing. It beats listening to his algebra teacher _droning_ anyway.

 

He opens the attached file and a hologram pops out, blue light illuminates but only visible to Peter. His eyes skim through ledgers and comments added by their internal control team.

 

It has been a good quarter for Stark Industries. Their profitability rises 7% vs last year; evolution revenue growth is significantly higher than forecasted. Their acquisition cost of Hammer Industries is lower than budgeted and as soon as legal team from both parties has finalized the terms, Tony Stark and Justin Hammer literally only needs to cross the T’s and dots the I’s and the deal will be closed.

 

Looks like the Stark Industries can give a high return again to shareholders this year. That will keep the fat cats on BOD happy.

 

Somewhere between reading on net revenue and EBIT-adjusted margin, the bell rings. Peter looks up just in time to hear his teacher shouts, “Quiz next week, so please prepare!” amidst the other students’ rising voices as they pack their bags and talking to themselves.

 

Peter rolls his eyes. Only a little more until he gets to net operating profit, but looks like it will have to wait. Algebra is his last class for today. There’s no point in staying longer at this school than necessary when Peter could’ve spent his time better at the Stark Tower.

 

Throngs and throngs of students crowd the hallway. Peter squeezes between them. Nobody really pays him any attention, he’s forever the little nerd despite all his money and obvious accomplishment. No sixteen year-old would want to say ‘hi’ first to a twelve year-old.

 

He doesn’t mind that though. He likes being alone.

 

Steve sometimes worries that Peter doesn’t enough friends, but really, what does he expect? It’s the cost of skipping classes and inventing new technology breakthroughs. Peter knows that Tony experienced the same thing when he was little and look at him now. Stark Industries has grown significantly under his leadership.

 

Peter can only hope he will be able to do that when _his_ time comes.

 

Maria Hill is waiting for him at the gate. Between her, Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov, all three of them take turns being Peter’s armed bodyguard each day. Approved personally by Steve, Peter knows they must’ve gone through a _really_ difficult selection process.

 

He will never forget the day when he realizes what Steve’s role actually is in Tony’s life, how _deadly_ the man really is.

 

Steve Rogers is widely known as the chosen partner of Tony Stark. Shock rippled through the business world when Tony announced he will marry Steve Rogers, an ex-CIA agent; leaving speculations on how will Stark Industries legacy will continue with Tony Stark marrying _a man_.

 

Stark Industries share took a nosedive right after the press conference.

 

Tony then proposed a simple solution. He would adopt a child, worthy enough to be an heir of Stark Industries. That is where Peter came in and got adopted.

 

But a husband of Tony Stark is not the only role Steve plays. He is also the Head of Security, ensuring the safety of Tony Stark and Peter by all means necessary. That includes selecting a team of professional security personnel, getting rid of paparazzi and unwanted reporters, providing security measures for every place Tony goes and even preventing an attack before it happens.

 

Steve has always struck Peter as a nice guy, kind and full of smiles. Imagine his surprise when one day, a murder attempt is made towards Tony when the man takes Peter to a science expo. Between gunshots and explosions around them, Steve remains an unruffled presence on their sides. He takes out his gun, calmly shots the perpetrator and all was quiet in the span of five seconds.

 

Peter secretly swore that day: he will never make Steve mad, ever ever ever.

 

“Hi Maria,” greets Peter as the woman in front of him smiles. “How are you today?”

 

“I’m fine, thank you. How’s school?”

 

“Boring as ever.”

 

He hears Maria chuckles.

 

At the opposite road, there’s a bunch of reporters surrounded by school security personnel. Peter gives them a cherry wave, knowing that a little more of good publicity never hurt. Tony has taught him all ways and means handling a public life after all. There’s no place growing up under limelight like growing up as the heir of Stark Industries.

 

Maria ushers him towards a white Lexus sedan and opens the door, a box of pizza waiting inside makes Peter’s mouth waters. “Does Pop knows you’re feeding me pizza?” It’s all carbs and saturated fat and very minimum nutrition and Peter prefers nothing else.

 

She gives him a wink. “I wouldn’t tell him if you won’t.”

 

Peter laughs. He settles on the comfortable leather seat and grabs a slice. The cheese makes a gooey string before it breaks.

 

Oh, how Steve would be _so_ disappointed. Tony however, will laugh. _Atta boy,_ Tony would say as he high-fived Peter.

 

Sometimes he wonders if Tony knows just how precious, how ridiculously _giddy_ those words make Peter feels.

 

He somewhat hears Maria says something to another bodyguard driving the car; but his mouth busily chews and by _God_ , this pizza is good.

 

Peter is on the second slice when the screen opposite him kicks into life. A video call is being patched through and Peter smiles when he sees his dad’s picture. Tony is a very busy man, but every day he or Steve always tries to call him right after the school ends, no matter what time zone they are in or what part of the world they are at.

 

It’s a good feeling, knowing somebody remembers and makes effort for you, even just for a two-minute call and it only makes Peter love his adopted parents even more.

 

Putting the half-eaten pizza slice back in the box, he slides the whole thing away to Maria so Steve won’t see it. The woman gives him a wink, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ before connecting the call through.

 

“Hi Dad!” Peter can see his dad sitting in the conference room, large window panes besides him and Pepper is talking on her Starkphone, pacing back and forth behind Tony. Steve is nowhere on the screen, but Peter knows he must be somewhere near Tony. Steve never leaves Tony’s side. They are disgustingly attached at the hip that way.

 

“Hey kid,” Tony’s trademark smirk begins to form, “learn anything new today?”

 

Peter rolls his eyes. He’s not even going to _dignify_ that question. His dad always asks the same thing every day, although he knows perfectly well what the answer will be.

 

So Peter does the next best thing: changing the conversation with something he knows Tony will appreciate. “Stock price is looking good so far today?”

 

“See for yourself. And tell me how’s the day will end.”

 

Taking out his Starkpad, Peter touch an apps and a moving graph pops up immediately. He can see Stark Industries’ stock trading live, streaming exactly what happens on Wall Street floors right down to the very second. Overall it has been a good day. The 12-point bump at the opening bell has risen to a 48-point increase. Peter checks the time. Only another hour before the day’s trading ends.

 

“We’ll close at 55 – 58 points higher. This will give a 10-point rise to our Asia stock before Shanghai opens. By the time Tokyo opens, most probably the Asia stock will be at 15-point higher.”

 

“Pepper says it’ll be 30-point bump before Shanghai opens.”

 

Peter makes non-committal sounds, exactly like Tony when he’s thinking. 30-point bump is way too high, unless something is going on that Peter doesn’t know yet. He tries to connect the dots. Few things can make stock price rise before opening bell, but nothing is better for any company than a profitable patent in hand, ready to make money. The only thing they need is a good publication. Xinhua, China’s news official agency is the only news platform big enough to give them such high increase.

 

The answer is perfectly clear and he rolls his eyes. “If my face is going to appear in Xinhua, can you tell Pepper to use -“

 

Before he can finish the sentence, Peter’s body slams to the side.

 

Something _huge_ just hit the car, making it rolls _sideways_ and Peter looks up in horror as a big truck literally rams itself into the car. He hears Maria screams at him to get down, his dad was shouting from the screen. The window breaks. Gunshots rang and Peter’s head hit something as Maria grabs him and suddenly everything goes black.

 

 

 

 

Peter groans. His head feels like there’s a nail pounding itself in. He tries to move his arm because it starts to get _hurt_ but somehow he can only lift a couple of fingers.

 

Opening his eyes, the room is spinning for a moment before it finally clears.

 

Huh. Okay.

 

He’s tied to a chair. No wonder he can’t move.

 

There’s a dim light overhead. Peter can see where he is now: somewhere with no windows, a steel door at one side and small ventilation in the other. There are boxes littered around the room, few rickety chairs, a broken coffee table and _oh my god_ are those body bags? There are two of them at the corner near him, white big bags and Peter wants to cry. This is _not_ something that Steve has prepared him for.

 

Where the hell are his dads? Are they looking for him right now? Why in the name of everything holy, do these people want kidnapping Peter like this? Is it money? Or do they want Peter’s patent? Tears start to pool in his eyes but Peter wills them away.

 

And then something nearby rustles.

 

Peter freezes.

 

What the hell is that? A mice or something? He’s in a shitty warehouse so there’s bound to be mouse in here. But it sounds way too _big_ for a rodent. Unless it’s a really really big mice and _oh for the mother of god_ the rustles continue; getting louder and louder.

 

Peter looks around, scared shitless then he realizes something and freaks out even more.

 

Did the body bag just _move_?

 

He watches in horror as one of the body bag starts to _wiggle._

 

 _Damn it damn it damn it_. An accident, a kidnap and now a freaking zombie??

 

Peter uselessly try to get away, but he’s tied up. A few additional centimeters between him and the wriggling body bag is not a good encouragement so Peter stops. He prays instead, wishing he has paid more attention to religious study and goes to that freaking church few blocks away from the Starks Tower.

 

Something flicks, a rippling sound rings within the otherwise silent warehouse and Peter watches with his mouth open as a _knife_ pops out from that body bag.

 

The knife cuts and slashes through the bag, making a straight line. Fingers then appear. They tear the bag further, the line gets wider and wider, enough for the body inside to get out.

 

Peter screams. Or at least he tries to. He’s so freaking scared his voice is gone.

 

“Shit! Shit! Shit fuck!” the body curses, “Damn it, I’m not doing this ever, ever again.”

 

The body – _the man_ – stands up. He’s wearing a tight jeans and even tighter black muscle shirt. If he doesn’t just step out from a body bag, there won’t be anything weird about him. He looks perfectly normal. The guy stretches, joints crackles as he looks around. His gaze falls onto Peter. “Oh. Hey kid. Hi there. Sorry to scare you.”

 

Not waiting for an answer, the guy fishes out a small earpiece and puts it on. “Matt, where are you? I’m in. Are you in position? Where the hell is Logan?”

 

A static voice must’ve answered him, because the guy turns and cocks his head. “Huh. Okay. Well, I’ll see you in fifteen.” He then walks towards the other body bag, _kicks_ it, and shouts, “Wake the fuck up, Logan!”

 

Peter wants to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *giggles*
> 
> Wade is just adorable. He's also more sane in here because Deadpool's greatness fourth wall breaking ability is too much for my puny, mortal brain to comprehend.


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

Logan doesn’t wake up on the first kick, but he wakes up in the fourth one.

 

Peter tries not to think how the number four is associated with death in Chinese numerology. And doesn’t it fit? The guy is in a _body bag_. Oh what an irony.

 

“Shut up, Wade,” another rough voice says. It must’ve been Logan. Peter expects a knife, just like with the first man (Wade, is it?), but instead Logan gets out with pair of gloves-like claws ripping through his body bag. “Hey kid,” he greets Peter when he sees him.

 

Both men look indifferent with the fact that there is a kid tied up in a chair. In fact, other than ‘hey kid’, they completely ignore him.

 

_Am I supposed to say hi back?_ Peter thinks. He watches as Wade and Logan talk among themselves. They don’t bother to whisper so Peter can clearly hear what they are talking about.

 

“…against that, Wade, I’m just saying this is unnecessary.”

 

“Come on, it’s fun and you know it. We get to test the new drug! Slows down your heart beat to one per minute!” Wade is grinning now, “Live a little!”

 

“On ourselves? There are plenty of inmates you can try this on.”

 

“Yeah but testing this on _them_ doesn’t exactly give you a way in with Hammer. The guy has been hiding here like a rat and I want my money back, Logan.”

 

Peter watches as Logan narrows his eyes, staring at Wade judgmentally. “You just want to make an entrance. Admit it.”

 

Wade is about to say something, but the door is suddenly slammed open, revealing a thin, well-dressed man flanked by five huge bald guys, obviously bodyguards.

 

Peter stares. He knows the well-dressed man, he’s seen his photo and _met_ him enough times to have that thin face memorized. The last time Peter saw him, however, _Justin Hammer_ was sitting in the conference room with Tony. They were finalizing few last details for the acquisition of Hammer Industries. Tony wants to get the deal done as soon as possible, simply because he doesn’t like Justin Hammer.

 

The only reason they are acquiring Hammer Industries is purely business: cleaning out any possible competition – so to speak.

 

Peter knows Justin is not happy with the terms. Once the acquisition is done, Tony will dismantle it. The saleable business units will be sold to Osborn Industries and other industrial corporations; the non-saleable ones will be shut down gradually. Its’ employees will be given early retirement package (read: fired nicely). The whole thing is not even making _that_ much money to Stark Industries but the whole point is to eliminate any competing firms so Tony (and Pepper) tries to pacify Justin Hammer as much as possible.

 

Clearly, it’s not enough. If it is, Peter will not be here, kidnapped.

 

He watches as Justin Hammer stops at the door. There is a flicker of fear on his face, Justin pales slightly and the whole distress is only there for a split second before being covered by a polite smile. But Peter has not been trained by _Tony Stark_ for nothing. He has been watching people’s expression and body languages literally at the same month he was adopted. It was one of the first things Tony taught him.

 

_Never let anyone know what you’re thinking – always know what the other thinks of you._

 

The words have been ingrained in Peter’s mind, but memorizing them and _actually_ doing them are two different things. Especially when you’re a twelve-year old genius kid whose brain is so smart, MIT has reserved a seat for you whenever you want it.

 

Right now though, Peter is sure everything is written on his face: shock, disbelief, and not a little amount of fear.

 

Because why would Justin Hammer, the person who will get _billions_ in a couple of months, kidnap him?

 

Justin, however, clearly has Peter Stark as the last thing on his mind.

 

Peter watches as Justin strides into the room. He walks confidently, his posture is that of perfect businessman, and Peter does not catch the slight tremor in his voice as Justin speaks, “Wade Wilson! Well, well, well. I thought my cams are malfunctioning but turns out, here you are.”

 

Wade pulls out a knife, Peter recognizes it as the same one he uses when he cuts his body bag opens. He twirls it around his fingers, eyes looking straight at Justin Hammer with full of mirth, an amused smirk on his face. Despite the fact that there are five guys bigger than him (all of whom have reached for their guns the moment Wade takes out his knife), his stance is completely relaxed.

 

“I’d say nice to meet you, but you and I both know it’s not true,” Wade replies. “I’m here to settle a debt. _That_ one though, you and I both know it’s true.”

 

“Before you say anything else,” Justin cuts off smoothly, “I always plan to pay you back. I just need a little more time, just slightly more and you’ll get your money.”

 

There is a slightest hint of tremor in Justin’s voice now. Whoever this Wade is, clearly Justin Hammer is afraid of him. Peter thinks it’s slightly ridiculous, considering Justin has five huge bodyguards with loaded guns by his side while Wade (and Logan) only has knife and claws.

 

Peter can calculate the trajectory of bullets and runs numerous probabilities in his head, but there is _no way_ Wade and Logan will win this one.

 

Wade, however, seems unconcerned by how disadvantageous his position is. He still twirls the knife, but shoots an unimpressed look towards Peter. “Tsk. Justin, I never know that you’re _such_ and idiot. Do you think kidnapping a kid here will make me forget about your debts? You owe me waaay too much money, my friend.”

 

“On the contrary, Wilson, that kid is my ticket on paying you back.” Justin smiles, all teeth now, “Wade Wilson, meet Peter Stark.”

 

A recognition flashes through Wade’s eyes. “Huh.”

 

Peter gulps. His body stiffens involuntarily as he tries to scoot backward even more.

 

Wade’s eyes stare at him, calculating and shrewd. The knife is still twirling and Peter suddenly wonders _will he die there_ or is there any possibility they only want money? Looks like Justin is in a bit of a pinch. How much does the man owe Wade if even the billions he’d get from the acquisition cannot cover it?

 

“So let me get this straight. Basically you owe me money. And somehow by kidnapping Stark Junior, you think Daddy Stark will pay whatever amount you ask him?” Wade summarized.

 

“More or less, yes,” Justin shrugs, “but what I’ll ask is not only one-time payment. You can call it…a passive income, if you’d like.”

 

Peter’s eyes widen. Suddenly he understands what Justin Hammer really wants. Passive income can only mean one thing: share in Stark Industries. It will guarantee dividend payment every quarter to all shareholders, and really, what’s stopping Justin to also ask for something else? Few patents that Peter created, for example, what if Justin asks for them to be registered under _his_ name? What about building factions in board of directors? As a shareholder he’ll certainly have a seat there in the first place.

 

Wade Wilson must’ve thought the same thing, because the man suddenly smirks, wide satisfied smirk. A different gleam glints in his eyes.

 

“Hell of a strategy, Hammer. Nifty.”

 

Justin grins. The slight tension in his shoulder is now gone, obviously glad the other man sees his way.

 

A movement in the corner catches Peter’s eyes. He almost forgets about Logan. The man pulls his gloves tighter, claws ready to strike but other than Peter, nobody seems to realize it. The five bodyguards

 

“But,” the knife twirls faster now as Wade speaks, “I think I can make it better for me.”

 

It all happens in a blink. One second he’s still twirling the knife, looking all relaxes and the next second Wade’s thrown that knife to one of the bodyguards’ hand, injuring the man in the process and making him drops the gun with a painful yell. Another second and Wade has disposed the second guy whose neck gives loud crack as it gets turned around _completely_ before his body plunges lifelessly into the ground.

 

Two shots are fired, making Peter jumps before he realizes that Wade has actually taken a gun that is previously dropped and shoots it at the third and fourth man.

 

_Holy crap, the guy moves fast_ , he thinks.

 

Something splatters on the ground. Belatedly, Peter recognizes Logan’s claw push through the last bodyguard’s chest. The man gurgles, blood pours from his mouth and his body joins the others on the ground. At the same time, Wade has taken his knife from the first bodyguard’s hand, stabs the guy’s throat and leaves him dead.

 

Seven seconds. It’s all the time Wade and Logan take to kill five guys.

 

Somebody gasps, and suddenly Peter remembers that Justin Hammer is still in the room.

 

Hammer stands petrified, he doesn’t seem to move at all during the seven seconds the other two men practically slaughter his bodyguard. But then again, who can actually move? The whole thing happens so freaking fast. The speed is crazy. Are these guys even human?

 

Peter _really_ doesn’t want to know what can Wade and Logan do in one full minute, thank you very much.

 

“So, Hammer,” Wade says as he casually takes his knife out from the dead guy’s throat, “here’s what’ll happen: I’m gonna take all your money and stocks and bonds and any other investment you have that can get me _scraps_ to pay your debt. And although they’re not nearly enough to cover that, I’ll let the rest of it go, ‘cos I’m nice like that.”

 

“What?” Justin Hammer squeaks.

 

“I’ll spare few hundred bucks left to your family as part of your will. Doesn’t that sound good?”

 

The word ‘will’ is the only warning Hammer gets before Wade plunges the knife to his abdomen. Once. Twice. Three times, and Justin slumps forward, not dead yet but critically injured. Both his hands clutches at the gaping wound, trying in vain to stop the blood flowing out of his body.

 

Peter watches with wide eyes, mouth opens in pure horror as the very man who just _kidnaps_ him is now dead.

 

Justin is still gasping for breath when Wade rolls his eyes, “You’re not going to die just yet, Hammer. Just chill, will ya? Relax! You’ll bleed out, that’s all.”

 

The way Wade Wilson speaks is so _casual,_ like he’s talking ‘oh you buys the wrong grocery, that’s okay, just buys them again’ kind of casual, like this is something he does all the time and Peter will do anything to scream for help. But his voice doesn’t want to come out from his throat and _oh God he’s coming this way_.

 

Wade crouches in front of Peter. The same bloodied knife is still in his hand.

 

Peter’s brains automatically think of two possibilities of what will happen next. Either Wade will cut him loose and lets Peter go, or he’ll just kill Peter like he kills all the others. The latter option is the most probable one though because he’s pretty sure by now that Wade is just a psychopath. But a tiny part of Peter still clings to a faint hope that maybe maybe _maybe_ his name as a Stark still worth something. Doesn’t Wade want money? He mentioned Justin owing him mountain of debts.

 

Therefore, Peter is completely surprised when Wade places the knife, the same damn bloodied knife on Peter’s laps.

 

And leaves it there. Literally.

 

Peter tries not to think that there’s blood from three completely different guys on his lap. One of them is still wheezing on the ground besides him.

 

“At least loosen the rope, Wade,” Peter hears Logan speaks.

 

The man in question stands up, turns around and stretches, “Nah. I’m not that nice to a kid.”

 

Peter watches as Wade Wilson slings an arm across Logan’s shoulders, jovial springs in his steps as he steers them both out of the room. He looks satisfied, happy, as if the whole thing is just a joke to him. Clearly it’s a feeling that Logan doesn’t share as Peter heard him grumbles, “So now what, we collect Hammer’s scraps? That’s it? What’s the point of all this, Wade?”

 

Peter feels, rather than sees the way Wade’s eyes flicker to him. He swallows hard, knowing Wade speaks loud enough for Peter to hear his answer, “Investment.”

 

 

 

 

It takes another six hours before Steve bursts into the room with what looks like half of Stark Industries’ security personnel, Peter’s body slumps in relief as he watches Steve literally runs towards him. The blue eyes give quick scan at all the dead bodies around Peter, including Justin Hammer’s, but zeroes in at the knife on Peter’s lap.

 

Steve gives him questioning glance, but Peter shakes his head. He doesn’t want to talk about it, not yet, not when he cannot even phantom why Wade Wilson leaves him there.

 

He hears Steve speaks to an intercom, “I got him, Tony. Yeah. He looks okay, but… maybe we should give him some space first.”

 

 

 

 

Two days later, Peter watches as a CNN news anchor speaks, _“-widow of the late Mr. Justin Hammer, owner and CEO of Hammer Industries, confirms that all her husband’s assets have been sold and given to a charity organization. However, we have to admit that this is a very strange occurrence. Because we know that Mr. Hammer’s accounts have been drained to almost zero on the day of his death, leaving the Hammer family with almost nothing. So the question is why wouldn’t they keep the profit from selling the assets for themselves?”_

Peter’s blood runs cold. So it’s true then. Everything Wade said in that warehouse has really happened.

 

Wade Wilson. Wade Wilson. Wade Wilson.

 

The name has been running over and over again in Peter’s head.

 

Who the hell is this guy?

 

 

\- End of Chapter 3 - 


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